Yu Gong Zhao Ye had put up with this bastard the entire journey. Now, for the first time, he was seriously considering giving him a knife in return. Whatever hidden circumstances lay behind it, the fact that Xie You Lan could so casually use all the suffering Wei Fu had endured over the years as a provocation was enough to earn him a beating.
The only obstacle was that it would be awkward to beat someone’s child right in front of his mother. His fingers lightly settled on the hilt of the knife strapped to the outside of his thigh. Before he could decide whether to act, Jiang Feng Xun had already asked anxiously and in confusion, “What mute? What happened to Guanlang?”
Xie You Lan was just about to let out another sinister sneer when Cheng Yu suddenly reached over, grabbed his waist, and twisted hard.
“Speak properly,” he warned in a low voice.
Xie You Lan sucked in a long breath through clenched teeth. “You’ve already resorted to violence…”
Lowering his voice further, Cheng Yu threatened him, “I’ve only used my hands. There’s still someone over there who wants to use a saber. Behave yourself.”
Apparently whichever assassin from Longsha he was referring to was effective enough. Xie You Lan retracted his wicked claws and arrogant fangs, sat down with a dark expression, and finally shut up. As he listened to Jiang Feng Xun recount the events of that rainy night, he looked as though needles were chasing him from behind.
Once both sides compared their accounts, they discovered that the three members of this family were bitter gourds hanging from the same vine, each cursed with their own misfortune. To escape Beizhu Palace’s pursuit, Jiang Feng Xun had spent years hiding with her younger son, only for her elder son to slash that younger son’s throat with his own hand on a stormy night. Xie You Lan, only twelve years old, had been driven by hatred and forced by his own father to hunt down his mother and another man’s “bastard child.” Wei Fu, barely old enough to speak in complete sentences, suffered a throat injury and severe shock. From that day onward, he lost his voice and spent more than a decade as a mute.
The true culprit remained hidden behind the scenes, while innocent mother and sons tore at one another in despair beneath the rain. Their grievances exploded violently, then became soaked in innocent blood, forever altering the course of every life involved.
Of all of them, Yu Gong Zhao Ye knew the most about what Wei Fu had endured over those long years. As he supplemented the story from the side, Jiang Feng Xun seemed to tacitly accept him as Wei Fu’s spokesman. Wiping away her tears, she said softly to him, “This wasn’t You Lan’s fault. Guanlang was still so young then. He didn’t know—”
“Enough.”
Xie You Lan interrupted impatiently.
“It’s ancient history. What’s there to dwell on? Besides, he talks too much now anyway. Stop worrying about him.”
“I see.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye cast him a thoughtful glance. His slightly narrowed eyes were long and cold, as though he were reassessing the man’s worth.
“No wonder. I’ve asked him several times before, and every time he said he injured himself in a fall. How interesting. He would rather lie to me than expose the person who hurt him?”
Xie You Lan’s eyelashes fluttered twice. It was as if he were waiting for the saber to finally fall, only to have someone casually throw a handful of sand into his eyes instead.
“Don’t ask me.”
He snorted coldly.
“How would I know what that idiot who never learns his lesson is thinking?”
Only those who had lived through it truly understood. A realization suddenly dawned on Jiang Feng Xun.
“You mean… Guanlang already knows?”
“Looks that way.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye tapped his temple meaningfully.
“Madam Jiang, he is your son.”
At the time, Wei Fu had been only three years old. Everyone assumed he would remember nothing. Xie You Lan certainly never explained anything to him. Yet across more than a decade of time, through unfamiliar bonds of blood, grudges, and family ties, Wei Fu had somehow seen through the entire tragedy at a glance.
Among all those caught in this senseless disaster, the first person to yield had actually been Xie You Lan.
His mother had left behind no explanation. Day after day, all Xie You Lan heard were Xie Jing’s accusations: she had abandoned her husband and child; she had eloped and committed adultery; she and her lover had stolen sacred manuals; she had disgraced Beizhu Palace. She was shameless and unforgivably guilty. Xie You Lan was supposed to hate her. If he didn’t, then he was weak and pathetic. To wash away that disgrace, he had to personally kill the “bastard child.” Otherwise, he was unworthy of being Xie Jing’s son and the Young Palace Master of Beizhu Palace.
Twelve was an age too young to truly understand concepts like forgiveness or perspective, but it was old enough to kill someone on impulse.
No one knew what twelve-year-old Xie You Lan had been thinking. Yet somehow, beneath crushing pressure, he restrained his killing intent. Instead of delivering a fatal blow, he left behind a wound that was painful but not deadly. With that single slash, he severed both the hatred and the lingering bond between himself and Jiang Feng Xun.
Xie You Lan sneered from the side. “Has it occurred to you that you’re overthinking things? Maybe that idiot doesn’t remember any of it at all and genuinely thinks he injured himself in a fall.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye replied, “Even if he doesn’t know the truth of what happened back then, he should have guessed after you saved him from those Beizhu Palace spies.”
“Stop flattering yourself.” Xie You Lan clearly did not consider being looked at as though he were some secretly good person a positive thing. “If I hadn’t stopped them, what then? Let that idiot march right up to my father and announce he was Wei Huai Jun’s son, stir up his obsession, get strangled to death by me on the spot, and then force the old man to dig three feet into the ground searching for people everywhere? One by one, they all went mad, ran away, or acted like fools. In the end, I was the only one left cleaning up the mess and suffering for it. Why should I?”
“Pfft—”
Even Cheng Yu couldn’t help laughing. His shoulders shook as he buried his head and turned away.
Xie You Lan: “…”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye suddenly said, “Brother Xie, there’s something honest I’d like to say. Don’t take offense.”
“I’ll take offense. So shut up.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye ignored him completely. “That habit of yours—being unable to speak without putting on airs—seems to be a hereditary trait in the Xie family.”
Xie You Lan: “?”
There was a saying: don’t hit someone in the face. For Xie You Lan, the greatest insult to his character was being compared to Xie Jing.
Enraged, he fired back. “He couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a convincing excuse, and you still believed that pathetic story! How dare you accuse me of putting on airs?”
“Yes,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye answered calmly. “He’s Longsha’s ancestor. At this point, he’s practically my ancestor too. Even if I have to pretend to be blind, I still have to give him face. But we’re both irrelevant people to each other, aren’t we? Whether you’re good or evil, a great saint or a monstrous villain, has nothing to do with me, and I don’t particularly care. If you want someone’s attention that badly, go throw a tantrum in front of your brother. We don’t have a tradition in Longsha of forcing brothers to become enemies.”
Silence fell across the surroundings.
Xie You Lan sat there, completely stunned, as though struck by a heavenly thunderbolt.
Cheng Yu sighed in admiration. “I’ve always thought that while Your Highness often lacks tact, every now and then he manages to hit the nail directly on the head.”
The heretical villain who was determined to write I Am a Bad Person across his forehead was left pale with rage by the coordinated assault from the Longsha assassins. Veins bulged at his temples. A mouthful of blood gathered ominously in his throat.
Grinding his teeth, he hissed, “Longsha is truly finished.”
Cheng Yu enjoyed watching the spectacle far too much. One hand rested on Xie You Lan’s pulse while the other propped up his chin.
“Oh dear. Someone’s embarrassed and angry.”
Xie You Lan looked as though he’d been dead for quite some time.
Having finally dealt with the noisy Palace Master Xie, Yu Gong Zhao Ye successfully created a peaceful environment for conversation. He inclined his head politely toward Jiang Feng Xun.
“Madam Jiang, please continue.”
Jiang Feng Xun, who had been watching the argument with great interest, blinked. “Ah… right. Where was I?”
That slash had ultimately forced her to make up her mind. She abandoned the idea of continuing to flee from place to place with Wei Fu. Through Wei Huai Jun’s arrangements, her younger son was entrusted to Duke Zhenguo’s household and restored to his rightful identity as a descendant of the Wei family. No matter how far Beizhu Palace’s influence extended, it could not casually lay hands on one of Xiling’s great aristocratic families. As long as Wei Fu’s connection to her and Wei Huai Jun was severed, he would be safe.
The same logic applied to Xie You Lan. She and her son were pieces on Xie Jing’s chessboard, each used to restrain the other. As long as she remained alive beneath Xie Jing’s gaze, Xie You Lan would remain trapped in that rainy night, endlessly forced by his own father to serve as the blade that pierced his mother. That was why she had to disappear. Only by vanishing completely could her children have a chance to live.
“You hid well enough.”
Xie You Lan sounded as though he still hadn’t recovered from Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s earlier attack.
“The old bastard searched for years. Even before he died, he was still muttering about bringing you back. You practically became his obsession.”
Jiang Feng Xun managed a faint smile.
“The world is vast, and the sea of suffering has no end. People don’t meet so easily.”
After leaving Xiling, she and Wei Huai Jun deliberately chose a remote little country far from Dongyu and beyond the reach of major martial forces. To avoid attracting the attention of Beizhu Palace’s spies, they built a secluded home deep in the mountains.
Yilin Kingdom.
Tianxuan Mountain.
In the twelfth year of Tianbao, Yanyuan launched its northern campaign against Yilin. The war lasted three years, ending with the occupation of the entire kingdom. The surviving remnants of Yilin’s people retreated to Tianxuan Mountain. In the sixteenth year of Tianbao, Su Lü Ying Pan received an imperial decree to eliminate the remaining resistance forces on Tianxuan Mountain.
That year, Wei Huai Jun led the defenders against the Yanyuan army until his strength was exhausted and he died in battle. Jiang Feng Xun and the surviving elderly, women, and children were placed under military supervision.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s heart suddenly sank.
“Uncle Wei… has already passed away?”
“Yes.”
Until now, Jiang Feng Xun had answered every question gently and patiently. Only now did her expression tighten. She was almost completely expressionless.
“He was a righteous hero,” she said flatly. “He could not bear to watch innocent people suffer.”
Wei Huai Jun had left Duke Zhenguo’s household to join Linghua Sect and become the wandering hero he dreamed of being. He lived freely, always following his heart. He was willing to spend years investigating Jiang Feng Xun’s disappearance for the sake of someone he barely knew, and to defy the world by helping her escape her prison. He was equally willing to draw his saber for the people of Yilin, complete strangers to him, without regard for his own life.
The chivalry he upheld throughout his life lay in choosing the difficult path every time he could have chosen otherwise.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye wanted to ask more questions, but Jiang Feng Xun waved her hand and avoided the subject.
Wei Huai Jun had appeared too late and departed too soon. For one brief moment, he had illuminated her life. Yet that brief light had been so dazzling that she could never forget it.
That was why she refused to speak of Wei Huai Jun. She would not dwell on him. Would not accept his loss. Did not dare think too deeply about him. Could not let him go.
Of all the suffering she had endured throughout her life, only this particular pain remained untouched by time.
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